


Pinball Wizard

by shortystylee



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ben doesn't ship it, Ben “not very well-adjusted” Solo, F/M, Maz Kanata knows everything, Meet-Cute, Pre-Relationship, Rey just wants to play some dang pinball, Tiniest mention of Kylux, background stormpilot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-22 11:15:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15580752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shortystylee/pseuds/shortystylee
Summary: Someone keeps beating all of Ben’s pinball high scores, someone who puts their initials in as REY. This really shouldn’t bother him so much, he’s got his PhD dissertation to work on and the rest of summer to enjoy, not to mention he’s 30 and getting worked up over arcade games...Rey Jackson is new in town, a med school resident, who’s just ecstatic to find an arcade full of vintage pinball machines. She’s got no idea that anybody is actually paying attention to her new high scores.





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> As always, and it probably goes without saying, but much love to T - my sounding board, my fanfic enabler, my person.

Again.

 

It’s happened  _ again _ . Somebody beat one of his high scores.

 

That’s the third time this week.

 

Okay, so Ben Solo goes to the arcade a lot. A lot for a 30 year old PhD candidate.

 

Alright, he goes a lot for  _ anyone _ .

 

There’s usually other people at Maz’s - it’s popular and right on central campus, next to Starbucks and across the street from Insomnia Cookies, only a couple blocks from the Diag. He’s never had someone beat any of his high scores until this week. And on pinball too, he hardly ever sees anyone else playing pinball.

 

First, it was The Addams Family. Then South Park. And now? Star Trek: The Next Generation.

 

His  _ favorite _ .

 

“Maz!” he yells loudly as he walks up to the ticket and prize counter.

 

“Ah, Ben Solo. What is it this time?” She climbs up on a step stool behind the counter to be closer to his height.

 

“Someone beat my high score, again. Third time this week on three different games.” He slams his fist down on the counter, hard enough to knock over some of the prize candy and chintzy toys below.

 

“You do understand I have to let other people in? I can’t stay in business on your quarters only.”

 

He ignores the sassy response he knew he’d receive. He’s been coming to Maz’s since high school, he’s more than used to her personality. “Are there security cameras in here? I’d like to review them to see who’s got the nerve to beat me.”  _ It’s the same goddamn person _ , he recalls, his suspect with the initials REY, knocking down his scores he always enters as BEN.

 

“Are you out of your mind, boy? This is an arcade, not a bank. Now go play some games, or better bet, go work on that thesis I know you’re behind on.” She hops off the step stool and makes her way to the office, muttering  _ security cameras _ and a string of curses in a foreign language he’s unable to pinpoint despite how many he’s learned.

 

He leaves, in a huff, stops at the Starbucks next door to grab an americano, and walks back to the top floor apartment of the house he rents on South Forest to put in a few hours of grading papers.

 

He didn’t notice the woman walking down the stairs to the arcade as he stomps upward. Given, she was dressed plainly: brown hair in a messy ponytail, jeans, messenger bag, headphones in, and a maize and blue hoodie that matched the ones worn by 80% of the student body any given day.

 

“Machine’s out of order,” she says, pulling her headphones out by their cord and sliding a crisp new twenty across the counter.

 

“No problem, child. I’m Maz. You new in town?”

 

“Just moved in this week.” She holds her hand out. “I’m Rey.”

 

XxXxX

 

About a week has passed since he asked Maz about whoever this REY was who had gotten in the habit of breaking his high scores. Within that week, REY had taken his top spots on the KISS and Indiana Jones pinball machines, and was starting to branch out to other games - stock car racing, some shooters. He was yet to check Mortal Kombat or any of the other fighters. Part of him doesn’t want to.

 

Today though, it’s less busy than usual, probably on account of the stellar weather. He’s already been out on his run that day, so after a shower and lunch, Maz’s was next on his Sunday to-do list. There’s a couple of kids who look junior high age, playing skee-ball, and one keeps going back to the counter to check the price of the prizes. Aside from that, it’s him, over by the neglected row of pinball machines, and a group of three who look his age at an air hockey table - two men who just finished playing and a woman, perched on a stool.

 

“I’m not letting you win next game, babe.”

 

“Wanna bet on that?”

 

“Loser has to do whatever the winner says, for a day. In bed,” he adds, and Ben can hear the smugness in his voice.

 

“See, that’s not fair because you know I’ll just lose on purpose.”

 

“Whoa, boys.” Ben’s ears perk up at the addition of the woman’s voice cutting in. “Let’s keep this a PG game of air hockey.”

 

_ Yes, dear Christ, please do. _

 

“She spoils all our fun, doesn’t she, Finn?” It’s the voice of the man who made up the bet.

 

“We have thin walls, Poe, so I’m well aware I don’t spoil  _ all _ your fun.”

 

The one called Finn changes the subject. “Didn’t you say you beat some high scores, Rey?”

 

Oh, that gets his full attention.  _ Rey? The person beating his scores… is a woman? _

 

Ben had plenty of ideas in his head of what REY looked like - except he usually either had balding hair and a bit of a beer gut or was a 14 year old boy, forced into collared shirts and a haircut that emphasized his too big ears.  _ Okay, so that last example is actually just me. _ REY was always Ryan, or Robert, or Reggie.

 

He’s never going to say it aloud, but he feels like a bit of an ass to never have even imagined REY could be a woman.

 

Ben was just about to drop two more quarters into Austin Powers, but he balls them in his fist instead, and walks closer to the air hockey table.

 

“Which one?” Poe asks.

 

“A couple, actually. Mostly pinball, but House of the Dead and one of those old racing games too… Daytona USA, I think. Oh, and Centipede.”

 

“Geez, who’d have thought we lived with our very own pinball wizard. Med school not keeping you occupied?”

 

“I have time  _ not _ spent in the med school, yes. I just choose to spend it here. Come on, I’ll let you two pick out a pinball game for me this time.”

 

He’d realized a moment ago that there was the chance they would start walking this way and he couldn’t just be hiding behind Tekken - luckily a marginally better hiding place wasn’t far away from him. Now, from his spot inside the Jurassic Park: The Lost World game, he’s been listening to their entire conversation. The air hockey tables are on the other side of Para Para Paradise and the far side of Tekken, and he can’t see them. So, because he’s made peace with the fact that he’s a creep, he sits silently in the stupid game and waits for them to walk by.

 

He has a split second of lucidity in which he realizes exactly his position -  _ Hi, I’m Ben Solo, a thirty year old linguistics PhD candidate, who is currently hiding in a twenty year old Jurassic Park game. I promise I’m well-adjusted. _

 

As always, the classic rock station plays in the background. Ben recognizes the song - The Pixies, Where is My Mind?, which he usually wouldn’t mind, but it only adds insult to injury at the moment.

 

The two men pass by, holding hands, and he assumes they’re her noisy housemates. He feels the briefest moment of pity for her before he remembers that it might be her who has stolen his high scores.

 

_ Sweet fuck, that’s her? _ He watches as she walks behind her friends, along the row of pinball machines. Now that he’s hiding, she’s got them all to choose from. He peaks his head out, just slightly, to get a better look. Ankle length black leggings, a white cropped tank top hitting just above her belly button, and a fanny pack with a neon pink checkerboard design. Her brown hair is cut to shoulder length and is wavy, like she’s let it dry braided, and when she turns towards one of her friends, he’s able to read  _ medical school _ under the block-M on the baseball hat she wears.

 

“Ghostbusters?” Poe suggests.

 

“Sure, I don’t think I’ve played that one in a long time.” She shimmies her fanny pack to the side, left hand picking out quarters as she bends down to skim over the game’s rule sheet, nodding every so often as she reads. Satisfied, she moves her fanny pack back to resting over her butt.

 

Ben watches her take one of the quarters, rolling it across her knuckles as she goes up on her tiptoes and gives the playfield a quick once over. She pushes a quarter in and as the game drops the first ball down to the plunger, she gets into what must be her stance: slightly crouched down, left leg back, right bent at the knee and just barely touching the machine. He realizes then that her friends have no idea exactly how long they’re gonna be watching her play. She pulls the plunger back to precisely how far she wants it, and lets go.

 

Five minutes could’ve passed, or fifteen, or, shit, maybe even thirty since he’s been watching her play. Ben is no longer paying attention to the score or how long she’s been on the machine.

 

Eventually, her friends tire of standing, walking away and coming back with two high stools to sit on.

 

He’s never seen anyone else play that he finds intriguing - usually its just kids trying to button mash the flippers or people who play for two minutes and have already lost all their balls straight down the center. Rey’s in a state of a complete concentration, one he knows well and recognizes on her instantly. He can’t see what’s happening on the playfield, but everything else, from her aggressive stance, her knee nudging the game just enough to not set off the tilt bobber, both hands fluttering over the flipper buttons, to the minute movements of her head as she follows the ball, it tells him that this is definitely the person who beat his scores.

 

He's lost somewhere in between sounds of the ball bouncing off bumpers and kickers, mechanical and digital bells and whistles, announcements of extra balls and jackpots - all the usual sounds that somehow calm the constant hurricane of information in his mind. So lost, in fact, that he’s taken aback when the machine finally announces game over.

 

He watches her watch the LED display on the backglass, the numbers increasing faster than their eyes can process it until -

 

A clamor of noises he’s  _ very  _ familiar with and then,  _ NEW HIGH SCORE _ flashes across the screen.

 

Her hands fall back from the flipper buttons and she flicks her wrists to crack them. There’s a moment of pause when she stands stock still before she jumps into her celebration. Her arms fly overhead in celebration, high fiving both her friends, who don’t look nearly as impressed as they should be.

 

A very specific part of Ben’s mind notes the way her tank top pulls up higher when she raises her hands, exposing tanned skin and side abs, until --  _ fuck this, she just beat my high score on yet another goddamn machine. _

 

It's like something snaps then, the same old something, and he's thrust violently out of his reverence and into anger at the situation.

 

He pushes himself out of the Jurassic Park game, and towards the exit. Ten years ago Ben would've berated her in front of her friends, she'd probably cry, and it'd be a scene. Thankfully, he's learned better by now,  _ its not her fault, she has no clue _ , he repeats. What his therapy hasn't done yet is prevent him from pushing over the three candy machines on his way.

 

XxXxX

 

Rey’s tapping through the alphabet with the flipper button to type in her name, when she hears the crash of metal and glass on the floor behind her. She turns, whipping her head around in time to see a tall man angrily walking out. All she’s able to see is black hair, a gray t-shirt stretched across broad shoulders, and long legs in dark jeans, heading quickly towards the staircase.

 

“That’s coming out of your tab!” Maz yells as she runs out from the office. He’s already halfway up the stairs to street.

 

“Fine, Maz,” the man calls back down loudly. “What the fuck ever.”

 

She quickly finishes putting her name in and rushes over to Maz, stopping in her tracks when she sees the mess and walking carefully around the broken pieces of glass.

 

“Holy crap, Maz, that guy got a problem or what?”

 

Maz quirks her head to the side, then remembers. “Oh, child, that’s right. You’re new around here. Sometimes he’s got a problem, sometimes it's the ‘or what.’”

 

By now, Rey’s taken the push broom out of Maz’s hands and is busy helping sweep up broken glass along with the Skittles, gumballs, and Runts that flew across the floor. “You know him?”

 

“I’ve been dealing with him and his antics since he was fifteen,” she says as she chuckles to herself. “You could say I know him. And you will too, soon enough.”

 

“What? Who is he and why the heck would I get to know  _ him _ ?”

 

“That’s Ben Solo, and you’ve been beating all his high scores.”


	2. Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little less pinball, a little more googling and talking.

That evening, Rey celebrates her newest high score with a boba smoothie from Bubble Island, trying not to think too much about Ben Solo or his tantrum while she's still hanging out with Finn and Poe, but the moment they’re back home and retreat to their respective rooms, her laptop is out and she’s googling him.

The results that come up all match the scant information she has about him, which at this point is only his name and the city they both live in. Almost all the results have something connected to the university, and she figures that is probably why no social media sites pop up. She clicks the first result - a listing of graduate students in the school of linguistics.

She sucks in a sharp breath when she see his headshot. Rey realizes she’s only seen him from behind, stomping up stairs like an overgrown child but… this? This is not a child. He’s striking, sharp cheekbones and full lips and hair that’s just long enough to skirt the line of professionalism. His eyes though, their intensity is what stands out the most.  _ What did Tyra call that on Top Model? Smizing? _ Despite that it’s only a photograph, it feels like they latch on to her, and she sees absolutely none of the anger in them that she witnessed just an hour ago.

She shakes her head, stops staring, and continues to scroll down his page.

_ Ben Solo, a PhD candidate, interested in language contact, multilingualism, and language acquisition. _ She continues to read his profile past that, and while she understands each word separately, his studies are so far removed from hers she might as well be reading a foreign language.

The next result is his university website, with links to the undergraduate linguistics classes he teaches, but what catches her eye is the curriculum vitae link at the top.

She scans his education first. “Jesus Christ, are you  _ trying  _ to rack up student loan debt?” she says aloud. A bachelors in Romance Languages and Literatures, followed two years later by a masters in Greek. It’s not often that Rey feels inadequate with her own degrees - she has a biochem B.S. from Michigan State, her MD from University of Pittsburgh, and now she’s in Ob/Gyn residency at U of M…  _ but goddamn if his CV isn’t impressive, _ she thinks. She can’t begin to imagine having that many languages clunking about in her head, but she bets he doesn’t spend his days delivering babies.

The third result, from RateMyProfessor, looks like it could potentially be interesting. There’s 12 ratings, and out of a high score of 5, he averages a solid 3.8. Most of the reviews are the same - describing him as a no-nonsense professor with a mandatory attendance policy, good at making the material easy to understand, who is willing to help students who show up for class and his office hours.

It starts to get a bit monotonous, until one from two years ago comes up.

MaizeBlueGrl16: fair prof. Hard ass if you goof off, but fair. Also totally ripped, can confirm has an eight pack.   
  
HarbaughisGod, in reply to MaizeBlueGrl16: he does not have an eight pack, stfu   
  
MaizeBlueGrl16: okay it’s a six pack but i s2g. See for yourself, he runs shirtless at the Arboretum A LOT

Rey actually snorts at that, the absurdity of two undergrads arguing about their linguistics professor’s abs on a professor rating website. For not the first time in her life, she’s ecstatic that med students don’t teach classes.

XxXxX

Her week afterwards is hectic, she’s paged back into work every time she’s on call - apparently all of the pregnant women in the county decided to go into labor within five days of each other. It’s early evening on Friday before she’s finally off-duty and not on call, and able to make her way to Maz’s for some much needed decompression time. She’s halfway down the stairs when she looks over across the railing and it’s him. Ben Solo. He’s on the other side of the handrail from her and he’s stopped climbing. 

For a moment, they stand there, eyes locked and staring, almost sizing each other up. He’s dressed similar again today, a slim white t-shirt, sleeves messily rolled with a pair of Wayfarers hanging in the collar, and a stylized mountain range design she knows is the cover of Joy Division’s Unknown Pleasures album without needing the writing on the shirt to remind her - for a moment she wonders if that album title is secretly trying to tell her something. The t-shirt is paired with another pair of black jeans, and though Rey can’t imagine wearing them in the heat wave they’re having this week, they cling to his thighs so nicely that she can’t find it in her to complain. She remembers the button down and tie from his picture online, and assuming he’s like her and has to dress up a bit for work, she’s willing to bet that also he chooses to stay casual when he’s on his own time.  _ I'm also willing to bet that he probably just picked those clothes off his floor and has no clue how goddamn sexy he looks right now. _ When she pulls her head phones out, he finally says something.

“It’s you.”

“It's me. And I have a name,” she counters.

“Oh, I know what your name is. Have fun beating more of my scores tonight.” He takes the sunglasses off the collar of his shirt, puts them on and starts walking up the stairs, but something strikes her as off.  _ The last time I saw him he was knocking over gumball machines and now… he doesn’t care? _ She looks down the stairs at the games, the change machine that’s finally fixed, and back to him, retreating up to street level.

_ God bless it _ , she mutters under her breath, as she turns and sprints up the stairs, the change in her fanny pack noisily shaking around as she runs. At the top, she squints at the daylight, looks right and then left down South U, and sees him go into the Starbucks next door. She follows him in, spotting him waiting in line at the counter behind two other people. Not exactly sure what’s happening, she walks up behind him and clears her throat.

“Do you want something?” The sunglasses are pushed up on top of his head now, pulling his hair back. He turns towards her just slightly, looking down at her with that same intensity she recalls from his headshot, but she will not allow herself to get flustered.

“Oh, so you’re buying me a coffee?” she quips, proud of herself for thinking of that reply now and not ten minutes from now.

A smile flicks across his face and is gone just as quick. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Yea, obviously.” The customer at the register walks over to the pick-up counter, and they both take a step up in line.

“Okay, then what do you want?”

“To talk, I guess.” He raises an eyebrow, but before she has time to clarify, the barista calls next in line and it’s his turn.

“The usual again today, Ben?” The barista asks, voice chipper.

“Same as always,” his voice trails off a bit and his shoulders slump. He turns to the side and waves his hand towards Rey. “And whatever she wants too.”

_ Roll with it, Rey. _

“Oh, um… caramel macchiato, grande.” She pauses a moment. “With almond milk, please.” She watches him use his phone app to pay, and they walk down to the pick-up counter in silence.

A barista calls out his regular, a venti americano with a splash of coconut milk and two pumps of sugar-free hazelnut syrup, and then hers shortly after.

“Come on, let’s go.” She gestures towards the front door with her head.

“Go? I thought you wanted to talk.”

“I do. But I want to talk outside, on the Diag. It’s beautiful out tonight and I’m not spending it inside.”

“Five minutes ago you were going to spend it in inside at Maz’s.” Rey notices that despite his protests, he’s following behind her as she makes her way towards the door.

She’s there first, holding it open for him with her hip. “Well, my plans for the evening have changed.”

It’s only a block down the road to the Diag, the big open green space surrounded by Angell Hall and the libraries. The regular semester for undergrads doesn’t start for another few weeks, but the grass is still full of people. They walk through the West Hall tunnel, past groups of families with children playing on the grass, a few frisbee and hacky sack games, and a group of ten or so people doing what looks like acroyoga. It’s a warm evening, and they’re lucky to find an empty stone bench to sit on.

She was wondering if small talk was the way to go, but instead Rey decides to cut right to it. “So, from your display at Maz’s the other day, I take it you found out I'm the one who beat your high scores?”

“And you want to apologize?”

Rey damn near chokes on her coffee.

“What? Apologize?” she manages to squeak out, in between trying to cough and clear her throat. She takes a deep breath and continues. “No. Listen, I deal with babies all day long at work, I don't need you acting like one too.”

“Babies?”

“Alright, let's start over.” His eyes are full of confusion as he watches her stand up, and then sit right back down again. “Hey, stranger, thanks for coffee.” She sets the cup down on the bench between them, and turns fully towards him, folding her right leg under her left knee. “I'm Rey Jackson, an ob/gyn resident at the med school. I just moved here a few weeks ago, and ya know what? I found someone I think is pretty interesting, that’s if he can keep himself in check and not destroy gumball machines every time I beat his score.”

XxXxX

Ben knows that sometimes, sometimes people throw him a lob ball and he’s still unprepared to catch it.

******

Within minutes of being home, he feels horrid for how he reacted back at Maz’s. He grabs his checkbook and writes one out to Maz, hoping the amount will cover the cost of the candy machines, and puts it in his wallet so he’ll remember to give it to her when he’s in next. Knowing it'd be fruitless to try to revise part of his dissertation in his current state of mind, Ben climbs into the window seat in his room, overlooking the side street below, and cranks open both windows. It’d been a long time since he’d had an outburst like that - the regular coffees and calls with Phasma, his best friend currently working on her clinical psychology PhD, have certainly been helping. Thinking on it only for a few seconds, he pulls out his phone and calls her. After two rings, she answers.

“Phas? I… I lost control. Again.”

She softens on cue. “Oh, Ben. What happened?”

“I stormed out of Maz’s. And I, um, sort of knocked over and broke some glass gumball machines.”

“What brought this on?” He does not want to tell her, and for that reason, he does. She doesn’t laugh, though he thinks most would, and he tells her all about Rey. All about Rey and his high scores and how they're  _ his _ and she beat them, how effortless it looked and her excited victory celebration. She listens through everything, as he word vomits out all his thoughts until he's not entirely sure what he's said and what he's left out.

“Ben, I’m going to give you my professional ‘doesn’t have her PhD yet and this is all for free’ opinion.”

“That’s what I called for.”

“Okay then. Have you listened to yourself?”

“Yes,” he answers, trying his best to not sound like a snotty child. He trusts Phas, understands she wants to help him, and from experience knows she’ll be more than qualified once she defends her dissertation and graduates. Ben walks over to his bed, flopping down dead center. “I sound completely irrational.”

“And do you know why?” He says nothing. “You're not upset she beat your high scores. You have a crush on her.”

_ Fuck _ .

******

Not this time. This time he’s prepared, and Rey throws this chance up so nicely, like a dad pitching at a little league game.

“Did I hear you say you think I’m interesting?” He’s been sitting straight up on the bench, but now he turns to face her, pulling both legs under to sit cross-legged.

“Potentially. I could be making a mistake telling you this, but I googled you, Mr. Fancy Linguistics PhD candidate.”

“Honestly, I’d have done the same,” he shrugs, “but I didn’t know your last name until a minute ago.”

“Glad to know I’m in similar company.” She takes a drink of her coffee. “Anything you wanna know about me? I've got the advantage right now since you weren't able to stalk me online.”

“Where’d you hone your pinball skills?” There’s so many things he’d like to know, but that topic seems the safest to start with. “Not gonna lie, I was upset, as you obviously saw, but also… rather impressed. As you can probably tell, I'm not used to being beaten.”

“Maz’s, actually, but the one up in East Lansing. I did my undergrad at State. Biochem,” she adds. “Med school at Pittsburgh and I’m just now I’m back in the mitten.”

“Wait, so how new in town are you?”

“Three whole weeks, as of tomorrow.” 

_ Sure didn't hesitate to lay waste to my scores _ , he thinks, but keeps his mouth shut on that one. He's got something better, he’s got an idea. “Have you even had a chance to see campus?”

“Aside from the med school, Maz’s, and a number of takeout Chinese places, no.”

“Do you want to?”

“Right now?”

“What else you got going on tonight?”

Her face scrunches up while she thinks, and he knows she’s running through all possible scenarios, trying to figure out if he deserves her trust or not. Ben doesn’t blame her - he’s a big guy who she hardly knows, who she’s seen get angry and break inanimate objects. He hopes she’ll say yes, hopes she’ll trust him. Truth be told, he’d stopped in his tracks to stare at her in the staircase at Maz’s only partially because it’s her, the one who beats his scores. The vast majority of the reason was that suddenly, in his line of sight, were her long tanned legs in that short corduroy circle skirt, the marigold color doing its best to highlight her skin tone. Add to that a pair of calf-high leather motorcycle boots and a black and white striped tank top ending just above the top of her skirt, and he figures she must think he’s enraptured by the label on his coffee since he’s been staring at it to avoid overtly eye-fucking her.

She picks up her drink and downs the rest, as if there’s such a thing as caffeine courage, then adjusts her checkerboard fanny pack around her waist. There’s a garbage can nearby and she stands, tosses the empty cup in, then turns toward him again, hand outstretched. 

“Alright, Ben. Show me the town.”


	3. Part III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not really even a warning, but there's the tiniest mention of Kylux in here. It's not a ship, Ben doesn't even ship it. 
> 
> Also I've written so much about gelato that I think I need to get some this weekend. 
> 
> It goes without saying, but I'll say it anyways - thank you always to my bestie T, who I'll surely take to all these places mentioned next time she visits.

Ben takes her hand as he unfolds his legs and stands. She's certain he'll let go of it within seconds - surely they're not actually doing what she hopes they're doing? But he doesn't let go - instead he changes hand positions, lacing his long fingers together with hers, his hand warm from the coffee he’d been cradling. Rey has no idea what he has in mind, but she loves his first question. “Are you hungry?”

“Always,” Rey replies.  _ But I think I’m starting to understand what the kids mean by thirsty. _ She’s somehow able to think that with a straight face.

“Oh, thank god. I’m starving. In the mood for anything?”

_ Could he stop asking questions like that? _ “I dunno, something different? Interesting? Some place where they definitely don’t skimp on the portions.” She lets him start to guide her down the sidewalk, past the group of people setting up a slackline between two maple trees. “I was at work today for over twelve hours, with only enough breaks to have a Monster and inhale a Clif bar, so I’m not picky.”

They stop at a crosswalk to wait for the walk signal, then make their way through a tall arched open walkway, into a covered shopping area. Small storefronts line each side and the ceiling has got to be about three stories up, if she had to guess. 

“Is it in here?” she asks, her tone hopeful. The corridor is lit up by hanging lights and the small amount of sunlight that still streams in through the skylights that line the ceiling. 

He tells her it’s not, but as they walk by, he points out a coffee shop on the right side that she should stop into. “The place I’ve got in mind is a couple blocks away, one or two past Main Street. I hope you don’t mind the walk.”

“Not at all, especially if it's worth it.” When she turns her head upward to look at him, he’s already looking back down at her.

“It’s a little Korean bibimbap place, and it’s worth it, I promise.” They get to another block and Rey starts to cross, stopping when she feels him squeeze her hand to get her to stop for the walk light. “I’ve been going there since I was in high school.”

“You’re a townie?”

“Sort of. We moved all over the place when I was a kid, but my uncle lives here so we'd visit a lot. My parents decided that I needed a normal life for high school, so they had me move in with him. Went to high school at Community,” he explains, then remembers she’s lived in town for less than a month. “Ya know, the sort of hippie alternative school by the farmers market? And I've been in town ever since.”

A few more blocks and Ben stops in front of a brick storefront, the name  _ Kosmo’s _ displayed above two large windows in colorful lettering. The walls inside are covered with vibrantly colored cartoonish graffiti - a tiger holding a bowl of bibimbap, various ingredients, and a cartoon version of a man holding a spatula. The girl behind the counter who takes their orders is adorable, Zoe Deschanel bangs and a septum piercing, wearing a black T-shirt with the same style mural as on the walls. They order almost the same exact bowls, white rice, bulgogi beef, with some differences in toppings, and they take the cashier up on her suggestion to sit outside in their newly approved-by-the-city sidewalk seating. 

They've barely had time to get settled at their table when they’re approached by a man in a chef’s apron with a colorful bandana tied around his forehead, holding two bowls like she’s seen at other tables.  

“Ben-ssi!” the man says, his voice loud and excited. He quickly sets down two large metal bowls, long spoons, and a plastic bottle filled with a dark red sace in front of them, before he turns his attention back towards Ben. “Orenmanida!”

Ben answers cheerfully, without missing a beat, saying god knows what and nodding his head. Rey’s eyes are wide as she watches their conversation - she understands nothing. She’s apt enough to realize though that he's proficient in what she assumes is Korean, and has enough of an ear to notice no discernible difference between his accent and the native speaker he talks to. They talk for another minute or two, before the other man looks at Rey, then back to Ben, saying something that makes him blush a bright red and stutter through his response. The man laughs at how Ben blushes, then claps him on the shoulder before heading back inside the restaurant.

“Sorry, he’s an old friend and I haven't been in for a while.” 

“Don’t apologize, just… you speak Korean?” He nods. “And from my googling, you also speak Greek, Italian, and French?”

“That’s correct.” Ben grabs the bottle of chili sauce, squeezing out a liberal amount on top of his food, before passing it to Rey. “Along with Spanish, German, Russian, Arabic, Japanese, enough Swahili to get by, Hindi… oh, and Latin. But that's a dead language, so I’m never certain if I should count it.”

She’s gawking, mouth wide, holding the chili sauce bottle in mid-air above her bowl. “Oh, is that all?”

“I can read sheet music too.”

Alright, so she laughs at that one. And loudly, the table next to them side-eyes her as if she’s interrupting their dinner. “I do expect an explanation, by the way. Since I can only speak English, Cancun spring break-level Spanish, and read medical charts.”

Over dinner, he explains - when he says he moved around a lot when he was little, he means it. “My mom’s actually in the foreign service, still. So every two years she’d be assigned to a new consulate, with a short stint back in DC in between. I’d lived in… shit, maybe eight different countries by the end of middle school.” 

“And your dad? Did he do the same thing?” 

“He was… in and out,” he explains with a shrug.

“Shit, Ben, I’m sorry.” 

“It’s fine. He’s photographer, National Geographic. Couldn’t exactly bring a kid along with him on his work trips. My parents are… flawed, I guess. Both very passionate about their careers and each other. It was a weird childhood, that’s for damn sure, but if it hadn’t been for that I wouldn’t have all these other languages rattling around my head, and I wouldn’t be here, researching what I’m passionate about.”

“Then that’s good. Because I’m glad you’re here.” Rey winks as she points at him with her spoon.

“Really?” Ben sounds like he isn’t sure how to take her statement. “That because you found someone whose scores you can crush?”

“And take me to delicious places for dinner,” she adds. “Seriously, it’s amazing.” She tips the bow towards him, showing him that she’s finished, and he does the same. 

“Where to next? Dessert?” Rey asks as they walk their empty dishes to the cart outside. 

“You ate all that and you've still got room for dessert?”

“Let’s get some things straight.” Rey stops on the sidewalk, just outside the seating area. She physically stops Ben from further, whipping her hand out to his chest, like what you’d do to the passenger when you slam on the brakes, then turns to face him. “First, I had two breech deliveries today that we had to c-section.  _ Two _ , Ben. Two babies determined to make their debut into this world ass first. I had a husband  _ faint and concuss himself _ . That takes a lot of a girl. Second, there’s always room for dessert.”

“Right, betsu-bara.”

“Pardon?”

“Betsu-bara,” he repeats. “It’s a Japanese phrase meaning separate stomachs, like one that’s specifically for dessert.”

“Oh, see now that is definitely me.”  _ Crap, still awkwardly touching him. _ She drops her hand then, adjusting her fanny pack that didn’t really need adjusting.

“Your choice then, handmade ice cream or handmade gelato?”

“Ughhh, Ben,” she groans, stretching his single syllable name into two. “How am I supposed to make that kinda of choice?”

“You’re a resident for at least a year, right? I’m sure you’ll have time to try whichever you don’t pick.” 

“You choose then. You were spot on with the bibimbap.”

“Gelato.” Ben’s answer is almost instant. “I haven’t been to Iorio’s in a while.”

“Lead the way.” 

This time, he takes Rey’s hand. She tries so hard not to, but she knows there’s a big silly grin on her face.  _ Chill the fuck out. Since when do you get all outta sorts from hand holding? You’re twenty six. _

“What’re you so smiley about?”

_ Definitely not your hands, or how big they are, or how they’d fit perfectly around my waist, pressing bruises into my hips, and holding me down against your mattress. Christ, that escalated quickly. _

“Just excited about gelato. I seriously can’t remember the last time I had it.” She flashes another bright smile up at him. 

“Iorio’s is amazing. You’re in for a treat, babe.”

_ Melting. Screw the gelato, I’m melting. Change the topic, Rey. _

“Good, that's what I like to hear.”  _ Change the topic, change the topic… hah! Got it. _ “So, I’m a little curious about something.”

“What's that?”

“Your research. Language acquisition and contact? I understand the words individually, but I still really don’t get what you’re studying.”

XxXxX

_ If I had a dollar for every time I’m asked that question, _ Ben thinks,  _ I’d still have a depressingly large amount of student loans for someone planning on a career in academia.  _

“I hear that a lot, don’t worry. Linguistics isn’t the most popular of fields. Seems most people are in med school, like you, law school, or B-school.”

He tells her that he’s used to it, and he’s almost got a monologue fully ready for when people ask. Diving right in, he explains the different concentrations available in the linguistics program, the ones he choose to focus on, and his dissertation topic. When he starts getting nothing more than “uh-huh” and head nod reactions from Rey, he realizes he’s gone a bit too deep.

He stops talking, which gets her attention. “You’ve got that glazed over look in your eyes.”

“What? No. I totally understand everything you said.”

“As someone who almost has a doctorate in the scientific study of language, you should know that I’m picking up on your sarcasm. You can’t trick me.” He gives her hand a squeeze, attempting to be reassuring. “It’s right up here though, so you’re saved from more of my geeking out.”

They stop at the storefront; the shop is small and there’s a little bit of a line winding its way out of the front door. It’s nowhere near long enough to deter either of them from dessert.

“Are you gonna floor me again and speak Italian to the owner?” 

“Sorry to disappoint, but it’s usually just high school kids or undergrads manning the counter here. We could take a look at the flavors while we wait though. I know how hard it is for you to make a decision.” He pulls up the store’s Facebook page while they wait, bringing up the latest daily post of all the flavors. Rey mulls over the majority of them while they make their way to the front of the line, and Ben is certain that if there weren’t easily twenty people behind them, that she’d ask for a sample of each flavor. 

He’s not completely wrong. Ben orders his first, his distaste for overly sweet flavors makes it a simpler choice, and he watches as Rey starts to get samples. He lets her have her taste test, and moves down to the register, paying for both - he’s pleased she lets him treat her and doesn’t try to stop him, just asks if he wants to sit on the benches out front. 

He shakes his head. “Too many people. I’ve got a better idea. Trust me, I think you’ll like it.”

It’s not more than two blocks until he leads her to an open square, next to the Michigan Union. There’s a large steel sculpture of a fifteen foot tall cube, standing upright on one of its vertices. Rey looks across the way at it, then back to Ben. “Is this what you wanted me to see? A… cube?”

“Not just  _ a _ cube,  _ The _ Cube. Go check it out. Seriously.”

Confusion showing on her face, she hands over her gelato cup. “If you say so.”

He watches as she walks up to The Cube, holding her hand out and giving it a tentative nudge, then another, until -

“Oh my god, it  _ spins _ !” Rey yells, her head whipping back towards him and then back to the sculpture. “You didn’t tell me it spins!” She shoves the side and it spins faster, then once the next edge comes around, she wraps her hands around it, running alongside, likes it’s a playground carousel. 

“Ben! Come play!”

“No, no, I'm fine. I’ve made myself sick and dizzy spinning that thing enough times by now.” He finds he really, really enjoys watching her instead. Her surprise when she realized it moves, her laughter as she runs around it. “Besides, you know how feisty campus squirrels are, someone has to guard the gelato.”

She finally stops a minute later, walking, well, wobbling back to him, arms out to keep her balance. “Gelato, please.” He stands up from the long stone bench as he hands it to her. “What’d you get?”

“Half chai latte, half earl grey,” he replies. Walking normally now, she follows his lead out of the square towards State Street, popping out onto the sidewalk along the busy main road, next to the Union. “I usually go for the espresso but they didn't have it today.”

“Can I try?” she asks, holding her spoon up as they cross the road.

“Knock yourself out.” He stops walking, pausing next to a large stone cylinder with flyers for everything you could imagine taped to it. They’re in front of the university art museum, and with the lights from the lamps along the sidewalk, and the spotlight the illuminates a huge red steel sculpture across the way, it’s easy for him to watch her reaction. Or, more accurately, the careful way she takes spoonfuls of both scoops, how her mouth wraps around the spoon and she turns it over once before pulling it out, and how she closes her eyes for a second, like she really has to concentrate on the flavors.

“Interesting. I think I like the chai better.” 

“Me too.” With a hand on her shoulder, her turns her to face the entryway of the art museum. “Next stop on the tour is right over there.” He points towards another large statue, bathed in spotlights.

“Just how much public art are you gonna show me?” Rey asks, walking up to it. “Does this one move too?”

“This town has enough public art that’d it’d take days for me to show you everything.” _ Please, please let me. _ “And yes, this one moves. It’s a swing.”

Her face lights up and she sits down cautiously, scooting all the way to the right side of the seat. 

“Come on, you’ll fit too.” She pats the open bit of metal next to her. Ben hangs on to the side as he presses himself into the spot, there’s just enough room for the two of them. “Did you wanna try some of mine? White chocolate raspberry,” she tells him, in singsong voice. 

“I’ll pass, I don’t have much of a sweet tooth.”

“Oh, come on. You might like it.” He watches her make a pouty face, confident she’s faking by how far she sticks her bottom lip out. 

It’s adorable though, her pouty face and those big doe eyes looking at him “Fine, you win.” 

Her expression changes instantly, pouty face changing to a beaming smile, like she’s won. She carefully scoops a spoonful out, making sure to get some if the raspberry swirl and he realizes she intends to feed it to him. 

Ben locks his eyes with hers as she brings the spoon to his mouth. He tastes the raspberry first, which isn’t bad until the white chocolate overwhelms it. his face contorts and scrunches up, and he twitches, just once, a little shiver running through him.

“Ben! I wish I’d gotten that on video. You made a face like when people feed babies lemons.”

“I told you I didn’t like sweet things.”  _ Except you. Oh, well, just missed my chance for  _ that _ line. _

They fall into a comfortable silence, finishing their own gelato, though Ben doesn’t protest when she steals a few more tastes of the chai latte from his. 

“That’s about all I can think of to show you,” Ben tells her, once he notices they’re both finished. “I promise there’s a lot more cool stuff to see when it’s light out, or if the art museum was open later.”

“There's still a lot of evening left.” It’s an open-ended statement and he’s very interested to see what she’s thinking of.

“Have anything in mind?”

“Why not Maz’s?” Rey pushes herself up from the swing, the force causing Ben to rock backwards. “They don’t close ‘til two and I’ve got a fanny pack  full of quarters.” She shakes her hips a bit to make the coins clink together. “Take the night full circle.” 

Ben did not plan on  _ any _ of this happening. He’d planned on getting that americano after leaving the arcade, then doing the pile of dishes he’d ignored all week, maybe later seeing if Phas wanted to meet him at Pizza House for dinner, and then definitely falling asleep watching West Wing reruns on Netflix. The words came out of his mouth and then she’d said yes and grabbed his hand and… here we are. It’s been a while since he’s been out on a date.  _ This is a date, right? Yes? _ The last one he recalls is months ago - Phas had set him up on a blind date with this guy she knew from god knows where, and Ben was convinced he’d never met anyone with a stick up their ass quite like that guy. He knows he’s very type-A, can get anxious if ill-prepared, and has had the same stick comment said about him before… but compared to him, Hux didn’t have a stick, it was more like… one of those giant logs they throw in the Highland Games. 

_ Stop thinking about that, _ he tells himself.  _ You’ve somehow ended up out with a girl who’s not only way too pretty for you, but she’s smart and a little impulsive and adorably amused by everything you’ve shown her.  _

Maz has this look in her eyes when she sees them walk down the stairs, hands together, that tells him she thinks she saw this outcome coming a mile away. She makes eye contact with Ben, nodding once then retreating to the back room. 

“Can I ask you something? The other week, the change machine was broken… that, was that you?” Rey’s cautious when she asks this, and he regrets his outburst even more than when it just meant a dent in his bank account. The last thing he wants is for her to be afraid of him, and thank god, he knows why the change machine was broken and knows it was not his fault. At least, not completely.

“Partially my fault. Maybe two percent, if I had to put a number on it.”

“How does that work?”

“Some kid tried to put a fruit roll-up in the bill slot and it got all jammed up. No pun intended.”

“And that’s two percent your fault because…?”

“I just watched him do it.” Ben shrugs. His face says he knows he should’ve stopped the kid. 

She shakes her head. “Alright. I’ll give you two percent of the blame for that.”

“Thank you. So what’s the plan?”

“Pinball, first,” she says, as she pulls him towards the wall of machines. Rey stops in front of the vintage KISS game and finally lets go of his hand.  

“You're not gonna play too?”

“Nope. You got to hide out somewhere and watch me play last week, it's my turn. You’re supposed to be a big deal around here, right? Show me what you’ve got, Bally table king.” She plucks two quarters out of the zippered fanny pack pouch, sets one down on the glass, and rolls the other back and forth across her knuckles before she offers it to him. 

It’s not often that Ben has someone else watching him play. When Phas comes with him, she usually plays skee-ball or one of the older arcade games, like Space Invaders or Centipede. Other than that, sometimes the other pinball regulars he recognizes will watch for a minute or two, but they usually just wish him good luck and go about their own business with the machine they want to play.

If that’s what she wants though, let her watch. He pushes both quarters in and the machine comes to life, drops a single silver ball down the right side. Ben eases into his playing stance, similar to hers but a mirror image, and sets the ball rolling.

Above the sounds of game, the speakers play a constant stream of classic rock and indie new wave, expertly curated by Maz herself, if he had to guess. No one knew too much about her, but he’d heard rumors that she’d been a DJ on the student radio station back in the sixties. 

It’s not the music that’s distracting, it’s Rey. It’s how she bends over the glass, bottom lip pulled in between her teeth as she watches. It’s how she sings along, loudly, not under her breath, and dances when Bruce Springsteen’s Dancing in the Dark comes on, as if she’s in her living room and not in public. 

When his game is over, he comes up quite a bit short on points and Rey still has the high score. He’s having a hard time being able to give a shit anymore, especially when she reaches up to ruffle his hair and tells him, “Better luck next time,” before pulling him to the next game she wants to play.

A little over an hour passes and they've made their way around to most of the games they're interested in. He's learned Rey makes the cutest surprised noises playing air hockey, and while he beats her 7-2, she crushes him at the basketball game. They're evenly matched at Street Fighter II and earned enough tickets at Skee-ball for two Airheads, six Jolly Ranchers, and an eraser shaped like a watermelon.

“What next?” Ben asks. He’s having a tough time thinking of anything they’ve managed to miss out on so far. 

“...pick something you’ve never played.”

“I told you I've been coming here since I was fifteen, I’ve played just about everything.”

“Think harder. ...what about the photo booth?” Rey suggests.

“You don’t  _ play  _ the photo booth, Rey, and besides, the ones in Japan are far superior.”

“Ben Solo, you will get in that goddamn photo booth.” Rey moves behind him, placing her hands at his waist and pushing him in the direction of the handful of photo booths.

He was aware he was tall, but he's way too tall for the photo booth, comically so. He has to bend down to get in, and once he’s inside he has to stay hunched over, hair falling forward into his face, unable to stand up completely straight.

“Alright, what color background do you—”, he starts to ask, turning around towards her, but she’s standing so close, so very close. Close enough that his eyes have to adjust to get a clear look at her. He tries his damnedest not to stare at her mouth, but sees her eyes flick up to his, he starts to wonder why he’s bothering to show this amount of self restraint, but before he figures it out, she’s closing what little gap she’d left between them. Her right hand goes for his hip, pushing him back towards the angled control panel, he’s able to almost sit, bringing him closer to her height as she moves his knees apart and slots herself in the middle. Rey holds him in place as she takes the quarters she’s been holding and plunks them one a time into the coin slot, like she’s buying whatever time the booth is going to give them.

Her left hand runs up his leg, knee to thigh, and settles on his other hip, fingers squeezing his hipbone, holding tightly as she brings her gaze back up to his eyes. “Do you want this?” 

Ben barely gets his  _ yes, please _ , answer out before she leans in. 

Her first kisses are tentative, as if he’d deny her, until he pulls back a moment. She grabs fistfuls of his t-shirt collar and hauls him to her, and he worries for a split second she’s going to rip his shirt. 

_ Fuck Joy Division. _ He’ll buy a new shirt. 

Rey’s the one who started this and he's more than happy to allow her to take the lead. When she deepens the kiss, he tastes a hint of that white chocolate raspberry flavor of the gelato she’d made him try earlier; he wasn't a fan of it then, but now, now it's in the running to become his absolute favorite.

She angles herself against him, trying to get as close as possible, and it takes all his good sense and willpower to keep his hands at her waist, when he wants to reach down and run his hands up her thighs and under her skirt. He wonders how much she'd let him get away with. 

Her skirt is so short and it’d be so easy to — no.  _ No. _ They’re in public and though the photo booth affords then enough privacy to makeout, there’s other people in the arcade and no guarantee they won’t get interrupted by a couple kids, or worse - Maz. 

It’s starting to get to be too much - her sighs in his ear when he kisses down her neck, her hands, that’ve moved from fiddling with the hem of his shirt to diving under, fingertips skirting across his abs and short nails digging into his back.

_ Think about something else. Anything. Teaching undergrads syntax. Phasma putting salsa in cottage cheese. Think of Marv, the pinball tech who fixes the machines and smells like wet dog… _ it works for a second, but she catches his bottom lip in her teeth again, and his mind exercises cease working. 

He finally pulls away then, resting his forehead against hers. She relaxes, removes her arms from under his shirt and throws them over his shoulders, fingers lazily playing with his hair. After a moment he decides to be the one to break the silence.

“Just for the record, if you wanted to kiss me, you didn’t need to spend eight quarters to do it.”

“Is that so?”

“Yea, the Jurassic Park game is just as private, but only takes four quarters.”

He makes a silent promise to go to temple with his mom next time she asks, because there is a god, there has to be - there’s no other explanation for how there’s this beautiful woman in his arms, laughing at his stupid jokes. It’s been an amazing night, really the best he’s had in ages, and rather out of the norm for him - he’s a planner, if he’d have known this was going to happen he’d have planned out every detail in advance.

“Or, ya know… I only live like three blocks away and I don’t charge admission.”

“Oh well, when you put it that way…” Rey pulls back and takes his hand. Dimples appear on her cheeks that he hasn't noticed yet; it’s much brighter in the photo booth than anywhere else they’ve been that night. Ben leads this time - past Maz at the counter, past past the fixed change machines, and past the brand new candy machines. 

“Night Maz,” they yell in unison as they walk up the stairs. 

**Author's Note:**

> Maz’s arcade is based on Pinball Pete’s in Ann Arbor, MI and everything else is as close to the town as I can make it.


End file.
